Bernie Sanders vs The Walking Dead
by SkyPenguin
Summary: Bernie Sanders unexpectedly finds himself trapped in the world of the Walking Dead. *Leading chars could easily change.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with the tv series The Walking Dead. Likewise I am not Bernie Sanders nor do I claim personal knowledge of Bernie Sander's inner thoughts. The following could be an accurate representation of how Bernie would act if thrown into a world full of zombies, or it could be completely fallacious. Either way, I suspect it would be difficult to prove.

The following is written with no expectation or acceptance of monetary compensation nor disrespect towards Bernie Sanders.

 **Bernie Sanders vs The Walking Dead**

 **Chapter 1:**

There was no smooth transition, no slow awakening. One moment I slept, the next I stood in an unfamiliar land; vast trees towering overhead. Slender, small and smooth, these weren't my hands. Was I still dreaming? It didn't feel like a dream, nor a memory.

A groan broke the silence of the woods. I turned and saw a monster. Or, perhaps, a man, though I had never seen yet living that was in so foul a state. The smell of it was as horrific as its appearance. I gagged as I caught sight of the intestines hanging from his stomach. I'd heard that death from belly wounds could be slow, but how could he possibly still be walking around.

Perhaps it was his stature that gave him fortitude beyond most men. He had a head and shoulders on me, making him at least seven feet tall. Wide too, though it looked like he'd been less skinny in the past. "Hello?"

I'd hoped for some sign of recognition, something other than that hungry, cataract-stricken stare. As he grew closer I took a step back involuntarily, then another. "Stay back," I said, voice strangely high. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, faster than it had gone in decades. "I can get you help, just stay where you are."

I didn't trust to words alone, checking the woods around me for escape routes as I backpedaled. Rightly, it seemed, as the half-dead man still showed no signs of coming to reason. It appeared more and more likely that he was suffering from some sort malady apart from the injury. Whether it was shock, mental illness, or a virus, I couldn't say, but I was quite certain that with hands that large he could snap my neck like a twig.

A moan from another pestilent man, this time with a missing ear, convinced me it was time to leave. I turned and began speedwalking away, somewhat faster than the fetid men behind me.

' _Strange, there's no pain.'_ In recent years I'd had occasional flareups of gout and a touch of arthritis in the mornings, but there was no pain now as I walked my fastest. But was this as fast as I could go? These weren't my hands, so why not different legs as well? For that matter, I was beginning to suspect the men behind me weren't giants at all, I was simply shorter.

Testing my hypothesis about having a different body I broke into a cautious run. It had been… quite some time since I last ran. I'd half-forgotten the rhythm, but it came back soon enough. God, I'd missed this. The adrenaline, the wind on my face as it streamed back through the long hair I'd once cultivated… it was simplicity and purpose intertwined. Whatever body this was, it was sure-footed and limber. Young, too, I suspected. Weak though, even weaker in arm strength than in leg. Assuming the lungs and heart held out I could probably keep going another mile or two at this pace, perhaps four if I pushed it beyond its limits and didn't mind being sore for days.

It was impossible to tell what was the correct decision with the information I had. I had the sun to guide me in a largely straight path, but no way to know which direction to travel. Four miles could carry me to civilization, an abandoned stone quarry, or even deeper into the wilderness. I could slow down, but I'd prefer to lose the men behind me if I could. I had no way of knowing how long I'd be in this place, in this body, but if I were to suddenly vacate it I'd feel better knowing I wasn't leaving them in imminent danger.

"Shit." I skidded to a halt as a horde appeared in front of me out of the shadows of the woods. It was obvious now that the two men before weren't unique occurrences. There was no telling how many of them there were in these forsaken woods.

Was this hell? purgatory? Even if it was, I didn't plan on just giving up. I was thirsty though, untrained body already growing tired. My options were growing fewer all the time. Marshalling my energy I took off perpendicularly to the horde.

"Aoohrh." A hand grasped at me as I passed a large oak.

I recoiled. "Don't touch me!" I fell, tumbling. I was back on my feet in moments but the damage was done. The group I'd seen had only been a small part of a large crescent-moon of diseased walkers, and now they'd closed around me. As they drew closer, mouths slavering, a part of me realized that despite the absurdity of the notion they intended to bite me. There was no reasoning with, no escape.

Except one. The walker that had sought to grab me had fallen as well, now crawling towards me on hands and knees. I confused it by leaping to the side before running onto its back, leaping up for the tree branch above it. My arms and hands burned from the strain but I held on, swinging a leg upwards. I caught the side of the branch but my foot lost purchase, sliding off. ' _Come on!'_ I swung my feet towards the tree this time instead of the branch, feet just barely reaching the trunk. I walked up its surface until I straddled the branch. Locking my ankles around it I swung myself upright, and just in time judging by the fingers that brushed the edge of my t-shirt.

"Fuck off you bastards," I shouted with uncharacteristic hatred and color. Heart still beating rabbit-quick I made my way to the notch of a higher branch, hoping all the while that they wouldn't climb after me. Luck was with me, for it appeared that whatever robbed them of their sanity had also taken their intelligence. The lot of them, at least a hundred in all, mulled around the base of the tree, hands grasping at the sky.

There was a growing dread in my chest as examined their bodies closer. Dried blood was everywhere, clothes tattered and rotting, faces marred by decay, but it was what was missing that was truly damning. How could they be alive missing arms, missing ears and eyes and lungs and heart? But I knew the answer. It was simple, in retrospect.

They weren't alive at all.

It was impossible, but so was everything since I awoke. The impossible was now my reality. I was in a hellish world full of golems, or in American terms, zombies. And I had no idea how to get out.


	2. Chapter 2

I wasn't sure how long I stared into the festering mass of zombies below before I snapped out of my disbelief. More of them had arrived in the meantime, clustering beneath my perch. Eight feet didn't feel like safety anymore. All it would take is one former basketball player or a pileup for them to grab me and pull me into their slavering maws.

Thankfully none of them were able to climb, but a few were trying. Given enough time it looked like they might get the hang of it. ' _Time…'_ Time was against me in more ways than one. While I could escape to higher branches, the zombies weren't going away and so long as I was in the tree I had no access to food or water. Something had to be done.

It was unlikely any friendly parties would stumble upon me this deep in the woods. Even if I called for help and someone besides zombies heard me, I risked luring them into the same gauntlet I'd narrowly escaped. No, I'd have to take care of myself.

My new body felt light, spry, but I was still no chipmunk. Jumping from tree to tree was out, but the forest was fairly dense. If I were to fashion some sort of bridge, tied together with green branches and strips of my t-shirt? Sap siphoned from the trees might sustain me for a time. Some of the species I was seeing suggested I was fairly far south, making it difficult to guess the season, but there might be some arboreal bounty to be found. Apples if I was truly lucky, though even acorns might suffice. I was pretty sure acorns were edible if cooked and if I was careful I could likely start a small fire in the crook of a hardwood tree without setting the whole forest ablaze. With time I could even build snares for squirrels and other tree-living creatures, then use their bones to carve hollows in the trees to collect rainwater.

It sounded… oddly viable. This body even felt young enough to adapt to the stresses of tree-climbing and less than sterile food. But it all depended on being able to move from tree to tree without ever losing my balance or falling through a rotten branch; of the zombies not learning to climb or piling up high enough to reach me; on living up here long enough for them all to rot away. But there was a simpler way. Perhaps even a better way.

In my youth I'd been something of a pacifist. There was so much violence in the world already that it felt wrong to add to it. But over time I'd come to accept that while turning the other cheek was the right thing to do when faced with rational men, there were some beings that could not be reasoned with or appealed to with emotion. Rabid animals, fanatics, rapists… They were a blight that had to be contained. And while in civilized society it was enough to quarantine them, lock them up and perhaps even treat them, I wasn't sheltered by civilization any more.

With a heavy heart I took to my task. Finding a makeshift spear was the first thing, though it wasn't easy. I climbed higher in the tree in search of a suitable branch but none yielded to me. While limber, this body lacked greatly in brute physical strength. By the width of the wrists it had either never experienced upper-body exercise or it wasn't even ten years old yet. Eventually I found the solution thanks to Archimedes.

With a little help from the rough bark I tore my shirt into long strips, the ridiculously cutesy rainbow on the front ripped to shreds. Tying each strip together into a crude rope I attached one end to as far out on a dead branch as I could reach. Pulling on the rope created a reverse lever, channeling force into the pivot point. When the branch finally snapped I wasn't quite able to get out of the way, the heavy end slamming painfully against my upper arm. The delicate white skin was bruising already but thankfully wasn't bleeding.

Weapon acquired, I resumed my perch on the lowest branch. The rope took on a new role now, reaching in a loop around the thick branch. A loop at the top gave me a secure handhold in case something went awry. I doubted the repurposed t-shirt would hold my full weight, but it was better than trying to grip the thick, rough-barked branch without it. The thicker material of my pants might work better but that would leave the bark free to cut my skin to ribbons. There was no point going through all this if I just died to infection later. That in mind, I shortened the loop to gather fabric for a face mask. It wouldn't be worth much, I couldn't even douse it in vinegar as they'd done in plague times, but at least it would keep blood out of my mouth.

I stalled for a few minutes, braiding my long hair out of the way with an odd fluency. Muscle memory from this body, I supposed. But eventually I couldn't put it off any longer, I was losing the sun. My eyes blurred, a tear dripping down my cheek. It was a surprise since it had been years since I'd actually shed a tear. I hadn't even been sure I was capable of such naked emotion anymore. But while the tears now escaping me made me feel better in an odd way, it wouldn't change the outcome. Wiping away the tears in my eyes I hardened my heart and struck.

It was easier than I expected. The man - the _zombie_ \- didn't dodge in the slightest, didn't even flinch. The branch-spear sank into his skull with no more resistance than a block of foam. I'd thought I might need to strike through an eye to be effective, but it appeared their skulls were so decalcified than even a solid strike from an simple stick was sufficient to pierce them.

With a slurping sound he slid off the end of my spear, eyes dead and slavering maw ceasing its motion at last. With a sickening thump he fell to the ground, his spot swiftly replaced with another zombie. With a start I pulled back my spear before they could grab it. This one was better preserved, and a woman. Was it possible she could still be saved?

' _No.'_ I wasn't sure if it was my heart, my reason, or my pessimism that spoke, but I only had one choice. I stabbed her through the head as well, her better-preserved skull slanting off my attack only slightly. She fell to the ground, still snarling but seemingly with too much brain damage to move her body. The horror of the sight made the rest easier. I developed a fatal rhythm as I struck each zombie in turn. Eventually the pile beneath me became so high that the taller ones could nearly reach me. With dread purpose I switched branches and began my task anew, until the last of the horde lay dead or writhing below.

My head felt fuzzy, lungs sucking in and out furiously as my heart thumped in my throat. A stray thought led me to take off my face mask, fresh air flooding my lungs. The chill of the approaching evening brought me back to sanity, a touch of wind driving away some of the stench of death. ' _It is done.'_

"Sophia? Is that you? Who killed all the walkers?"

I nearly fell off the branch when I heard him. Lifting off the branch to a sitting position my eyes ravenously examined the newcomer. I could hardly believe he was alive, whoever he was. I'd begun to worry I was the only living human in this strange world, so the barest hint of conversation and companionship was a great boon. He was perhaps thirty years younger than me, early 40's would be my guess. A rough cut character, ill-trimmed hair and beard with a crossbow slung across his back. I didn't judge him ill for it. Not only had I looked not so different in my youth, this was the sort of man I'd expect to survive a zombie apocalypse.

If he was alive, it stood to reason others were as well. The zombies were neither smart nor particularly powerful. With luck it was a localized outbreak. If a child (admittedly one with decades of experience) could take out a small horde, a squad of navy SEALs could probably take out at least a few hundred every day if properly supplied, a few score if they were reduced to slingshots, knives, and spike traps.

"What happened to your shirt?" he asked. It was such an unexpected question that I said nothing. My mind still churned with questions about the state of this world, about this man that seemed to know me, or know this body at least. Confusion rose as he took off his vest, holding it up towards me with his eyes averted as he walked into the killing field. "Here, you can wear this."

Too late, I responded, "Wait! Get back, they're not all-"

"Ahhhghaghahgahh!" He fell as teeth bit viciously into his achilles tendon. Unable to stand he fell into the pile, clawed hands of the undead swiftly cutting off his scream. I couldn't understand his stupidity. Hadn't he heard their teeth gnashing? Seen their limbs quiver? I'd struck them until none were standing, but it was obvious that some still clung to their perverse form of life. What could have possibly compelled him to do it?

His mistake did at least provide an important lesson: Don't go stepping where you're not looking. In my case, the growing night would replace stupidity. As uncomfortable as it would be, it was still best to stay in the tree until morning. Resigning myself to misery I stowed my spear and found a fresh stick to dig at the bark. The sap that eventually welled forth was welcomely wet and faintly sweet on my tongue. It was too small an amount to truly satisfy, but it was a start. Vague memories of native american studies suggested the inner bark was edible as well but I was pretty sure it had to be cooked first.

Clawed fingers beating on the trunk interrupted my musing. My would-be savior was alive again, after a fashion. With his severed tendon he couldn't stand but other than that he was quite lively, death-maddened eyes glowering at me. He was too low to reach with the spear, skull likely still too thick to pierce even if I could reach him. One more moaning zombie to try and sleep through.

Untying the rope I spread out the remnants of my t-shirt across the widest branch to shield my torso and face from the bark. Praying that my time in a bunk bed at college would be enough to stop me from rolling off I laid down to sleep. The moans and groans from below made it difficult, but eventually my tired body fell into a nightmare-tormented slumber.

Author notes:

Plot-armor and Idiot-protection removed.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Fear the Walking Dead is not considered canon for this story. In large part because I found it to be terribly stupid. There will be an AU history that I feel makes more sense.

Part 3:

I awoke once again not sure if I was truly awake. I stayed pressed against the tree limb for a time, but painful fullness pressed me to move. Rising to answer the call of nature I discovered something amiss. 'Missing' might be more accurate. It was only the zombies growling as they noticed I was awake that reminded me it wasn't the strangest thing I'd encountered in this world.

I couldn't remember what I'd dreamt of, but one word did surface. "Sophia," I murmured, voice soft and high like a girl's. A girl that somehow, I now was. That man yesterday had recognized me, called me Sophia. The shock of him getting ripped apart in front of my eyes had stopped me from figuring it out sooner. It at least partially explained why he'd averted his eyes from me and gotten himself killed.

His extraordinary modesty hadn't endured his death. In the moonlight I could see him and the others still capable of moving all staring up at me. "Well." My plan had been to stay in the tree until morning, perhaps beyond. But plans could change. Balancing between branches just to take care of basic necessities as a crowd of zombies watched didn't sound appealing, and I had a growing thirst that I wasn't at all sure sap could cure.

It was night still, not even a glimmer of predawn light, but my eyes had adjusted. The half moon was enough to pick out shapes even below the canopy, the white-ish teeth of the undead. I couldn't see everything, but hopefully neither could they.

' _How long can the virus last outside the body?"_ I wondered, gathering up my spear. Hopefully any infectious material on the stick had died off, though I still kept my hands away from the brain-stabbing end. Without talking to someone living there was no way to know. Considering I was in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar body there was no telling what was behind their grotesque resurrection. Bacteria, alien nanotechnology, magic, the wrath of God, nothing was off the table.

Crossbow Man was still too low to hit with my spear. He worried me more than the rest of the survivors. With only three working limbs he moved around spastically, but he did move. I'd just have to move quicker. Planning was key. I circled the tree three times slowly, making sure I knew where every branch and handhold was. A few minutes wait let the zombies cool down, settling into one big heap. It was time to go. Rushing around to the opposite side of the tree I took three steps out along the lowest branch and swung down one-handed.

"Fuck." A girl's curse reached my ears. Kids were always swearing these days. Not that everyone hadn't been mouthy when I'd grown up in Brooklyn, but at least back when I'd been growing up kids had put some class and cleverness into their cussing. Nowadays it was all 'fuck' this and 'nigga' that. Too much time spent watching B-rated television and not enough rap-battles in the streets in my opinion.

Groans and moans brought me back to my senses. The girl dropping the f-bomb was me, and I was in deep shit if I didn't get the hell out of here. My efforts at gaining an extra second or two had cost me dearly. The invigorating feeling of renewed youth had misled me, as once again I'd underestimated just how little upper body strength I had. Despite weighing no more than seventy or eighty pounds my arm had given out, sending me spinning through the air. I'd done my best to tumble gracefully but the spear hitting the ground had thrown me off, leaving me to land flat on my back from considerable height.

I could see my erstwhile saviour lunging ever closer, the opening discordant aria of damnation. With every awkward but feverish movement of his three working limbs he came closer and closer, teeth snapping with vicious intent. The world seemed to move in slow motion, and I with it to my great dismay. Too robbed of strength to immediately take to my feet I instead raised the spear, thrusting with nary a prayer that I'd hit true.

Fortune was on my side, my makeshift weapon hitting him directly in the throat, knocking him back but not re-killing him. In my haste I'd struck with the blunt end by accident, thankfully sparing me from a spray of infected blood but leaving him free to strike again.

I rolled sideways, pulling my arm clear as his blood-stained teeth came down. The miss seemed to frustrate him, his roar as his bite hit the dirt urging his undead followers to greater speed. Scrabbling on all fours I struggled to get away, fingernails digging through the loose leaves to try and find purchase. It took what felt like an eternity to gather enough speed to get to my feet.

I ran. Barely able to see at the speed I traveled I held my arms up to block stray branches from hitting my eyes. It wasn't until a low hanging limb knocked the wind out of me that I took a rest. It was impossible to say how far I'd gone, or if I'd traveled in anything resembling a straight line. In normal circumstances I would have said that panicking like that was shameful, but those teeth had come far too close for comfort.

I could still hear them in the distance. Not all of them were vocal, but every once in a while one of them groaned. Three, four hundred feet away? They were damaged enough that so long as I kept moving and followed the moon they wouldn't catch me, but they likely weren't the only horde of zombies around. Caution was more important than haste.

My skin was frightfully soft. The exposed torso in particular, but my arms weren't much better. Not the body of a tomboy, sadly. The forest wasn't quite so sharp as northern pine forests, but I'd picked up a number of abrasions from branches and bushes during my flight. No blood so far as I could tell, thank god. Even ignoring the risk of infection, my current luck streak suggested the zombies could sniff out blood like hounds.

I couldn't linger. Thirst was already becoming the problem. The best way to find water was to travel downhill, but I wanted to get more distance between myself and the damaged horde before I started wandering. I started moving again but just a walk, running wasn't worth the energy and in the dark it was asking for a twisted ankle.

It was risky if I needed to run in a hurry, but hopefully prevention was the best cure. Slipping out of my sneakers and socks I held them in my left hand, spear in my right. The ground was cool but not chilling as I stepped feather-soft through the forest, stopping occasionally to open my ears to the world around me. I slipped into a rhythm that helped me ignore my thirst until a gunshot in the distance stopped me in my tracks.

It was a ways off, direction obscured by the woods. If they didn't shoot again there was no guarantee I could find them. No guarantee that they weren't surrounded by hundreds of the undead. Continuing to search for water might be the surer path, even if I had to dig for it.

Two more gunshots decided me. Guns meant people, water, food, _answers_. It was worth the risk to try. Unfortunately I'd only gotten a hundred yards closer when a stench alerted me to a zombie. Careful not to let my jeans rub together I snuck up behind it, silent as snow. My strike took it through the eye, not the back of the neck like I'd planned, but it did the job. I slowed its fall as best before twisting my weapon free.

Its sudden turn worried me. I could have sworn I hadn't made a sound. Had it truly smelled me over its own stink? A cautious sniff of my armpits came up with nothing terribly offensive. Certainly less than my normal body would produce after a run and a showerless night spent in the woods. Well, without water there was no way to smell like nothing. I'd just have to smell like something that wasn't human.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

I emerged from the treeline an entirely different beast. Moist dirt covered my jeans, extra attention paid to the metal bits to dull their glint in the moonlight. My long hair lay close against my head, wet with juice from possibly poisonous berries. A pair of vines wrapped around my chest, providing a touch of camouflage and a certain degree of modesty if I was successful in finding living persons. Hopefully people with indoor plumbing. One awkward call of nature in the woods was more than enough.

Despite my small stature and lackluster arm strength I felt powerful as I stalked through the tall grasses. Prey turned cautious predator. Disguised as I was, so long as I only moved when they weren't looking I was nothing more than a plant to them. I took down three of the man-eaters as I crossed the field. Judging by the large building and parking lot ahead it was likely lawn gone to seed rather than genuine prairie. A government building? A school, perhaps? Judging by the overgrown grass it had been at least a few weeks since the outbreak. If the building was still defended after so long it was likely it had been turned into some sort of evacuation center. With any luck there would be dozens still alive inside.

I slowed as I reached the edge of the grass. There had to be a hundred zombies milling around and more coming from the woods. They were inside the gates, inside the school itself. The whole accursed town could be here, alive and dead alike. With the yard and building overrun they were likely in the cafeteria or gymnasium if there was a large number of survivors. If there were only a few there was no telling where in the building they might be. Saving or even joining them was near impossible with my current resources. If I left the tall grass they'd see through my camouflage quickly enough and then it would be a one way trip through the horde, hoping I could find sanctuary before one of them brought me down. No, I wasn't that desperate yet.

A single gunshot rang out, loud and close. Unlike the others, this one was swiftly followed by screaming. There were no more gunshots, and the screaming ended before I could finish processing that it was happening. ' _Are they all dead?'_ I wondered. Curiosity urged me to investigate but instinct was driving me to head back to the woods, the safety of the heights. Either way, I couldn't stay in the meadow. Every moment risked discovery by the shamblers.

A putter-putter of an engine snapped me out of the quandary. It was so soft as to be indistinguishable over the groaning and shambling unless I listened closely. ' _That one.'_ It was a truck, parked on the road for a quick exit. A sensible vehicle for the apocalypse, I supposed. Green only went so far.

I wondered if the owner was coming right back. That was the normal assumption when a motor was left running but the situation was anything but normal. With a full tank it could have been idling there for days, separated from its driver by a sea of zombies.

I couldn't just sit around waiting for them to return forever. I counted silently to sixty before grabbing a rock. I leapt from the grass, three light-footed steps before all the nearby zombies turned to look at me and groaned. Dozens more heard the cries and joined in. I nearly turned back at the sight but it was too late to change my mind. I sped up instead, tossing the rock at the one fat zombie that stood in my way. Sadly my throw fell pitifully short, but my spear served better. It took the spear high in the chest, not a killing blow but enough to throw it off balance. I left the spear in the giant, pushing off it for further speed.

Before I knew it I was inside the truck, tired arms pulling the door shut as hard and fast as I could. There was no time to search for the lock button. Instead I needed to get the truck moving before they surrounded me - ' _Oh come on, a goddam stickshift?'_ Not stopping to reminisce about how many years it had been since I'd driven one I stretched my foot out to hit the clutch and shifted into first gear with a creak.

I hadn't realized just how short I was, either that or this truck was built for sasquatches. I couldn't see over the dash far enough to tell if there were any zombies or parked cars in front of me if I was working the pedals so I was stuck in an idling first gear as I stood half up out of the seat to see. Five miles an hour. It wasn't a lot of speed to outmaneuver zombies with, especially in a vehicle this large. There wasn't enough room to turn around so instead I made my way around the parking lot, my nerves steadily fraying.

I flinched as I hit something too short for me to see. Blood spurted up onto the windshield as I tried to not think about how it was probably a zombie child. It slowed me just enough that three zombies blocked me off. I gunned the engine but too late. They got knocked over just fine, but one must have gummed up a wheel because the truck came to a twisting halt.

"Shit." With only a moment to spare for consideration I pushed open the overly heavy door and leapt out. I couldn't depend on anyone coming to save me. Staying in the truck would end in dehydration or broken windows but either way I'd be dead.

Ironically it was just after thinking that no one else living would come that I spied a rarity in this new world: a living man. Unfortunately he didn't look like he'd be alive for much longer. Ragged looking and limping badly he still refused to let go of the heavy satchel he was carrying. In addition to the scattered dozens around the parking lot and field he had at least a hundred more zombies licking at his heels. It was dangerous, but after likely stealing his truck I couldn't just leave him.

I moved swiftly but carefully through the open areas, avoiding the narrow spots between cars where I could get cornered. I didn't think he'd seen me yet, his eyes going wild as he stared at the empty space where his truck used to be. My short drive had lured most of the parking lot zombies away from his area but he only had another ten seconds before he started getting eaten to death.

"Hey dumbass!" It had been awhile since I was I was so blunt but I could tell it was what he needed. "Get your ass moving!" It hurt a bit to yell like that through my parched throat but it was a heck of a lot easier to ignore than gout.

Fat zombie staggered towards me as I passed, my primitive branch-spear sticking out of his gut. I tugged it out, not bothering to take the time to kill him as I danced out of reach. So long as I kept moving he wouldn't catch me. They were relentless, but rather slow - fat zombie in particular.

I grabbed the man's arm when I reached him, my spear serving as a walking stick to balance me as I took some of the weight off his bad leg. He started walking but the first thing I heard out of his mouth nearly sent me tumbling. "Sophia?"

Another man calling me that same name. Sadly it was a mystery that had to wait. "Unless you have a better idea we need to make it to the treeline, we might be able to lose them there." We were making slow progress, if only because the zombies were too stupid to cut us off rather than walk towards us in a straight line. I did have to stake one that came from directly in front of us.

"There's no time," he said. "If I don't get these supplies back soon Carl will die."

I felt for the man, even felt a twinge when he said Carl would die even though I didn't know who that was, but he was overestimating our capabilities. "We don't exactly have time to hotwire a car. So unless you can fly…" I trailed off as I spotted a purple bicycle discarded on the side of the road. "That could work."


	5. Chapter 5

C5

I felt entirely ridiculous. The bike was too large for me (a recurring problem it seemed) but the bar was low due to it being a girl's bike which meant it wasn't impossible to get on. I rode standing, butt halfway between the seat and the handlebars. My only solace was that the man on the seat behind me probably felt even more silly. Or maybe not. Avoiding becoming zombie-feed made everything else fade into the background.

I worried a bit during the escape from the parking lot, bike wavering from side to side due to the slow velocity and passenger, but after a hundred feet we had a rhythm going. A good thing, since if I had to call out every time we were going to change directions we'd never lose the zombies.

A couple hundred yards later a copse of trees blocked us from sight from the majority of our rotting followers. I felt safe enough to break silence for a moment as we reached the highway. "So, left or right?"

"Left."

We continued for a time. We passed burned out vehicles, broken signposts, the occasional zombie on the shoulder. Thankfully the latter rarely noticed we were there in the dim moonlight until we were already past them. My passenger gripped my shoulder a bit firmer when we passed them but was otherwise cool-nerved. A useful trait for the apocalypse. Less useful was his horrid weight. This body's endurance wasn't entirely terrible but the added weight was not something it was prepared for. "How much further?" I asked.

"Two miles… Two and a quarter with the driveway."

"Got any water in that bag?" It was a struggle not to wheeze.

"No."

' _This… isn't going to work.'_ If I was fresh I might manage even carrying him, but the only reason I was staying upright now was the cool night air. "Is your leg good enough to pedal you think?"

"Maybe."

Why was it that I was the one out of breath and he was the one giving monosyllabic answers? I clicked up to a higher gear, slowing our progress but easing the strain on my heart. "Well, either we can trade off, or you can give me that bag and I'll do my best to make it there on my own. But I don't," I paused for air, "have enough energy to get us both there."

He didn't say anything for awhile, wheels buzzing into the dark. "There should still be water bottles left out about a half mile ahead. Can you make it that far?" I nodded to conserve my breath. "Good, my ankle should be rested enough by then."

"We left them out for you," he said. "In case you came back. I… I thought you were dead."

I didn't reply. Didn't entirely know how to and this wasn't the best environment for talking about body snatching, death and resurrection. It felt like an eternity before we came upon a blockade of ruined cars. I slowed the bike to a stop. I had no wish to try and ride through those narrow passageways. My passenger appeared to agree as he dismounted and prompted me to do the same.

"Stay quiet," he whispered, as if I didn't know. I ventured cautiously ahead as he followed using the bike as a crutch. I heard his footsteps and stopped in turn. I realized why a moment later, noting a number of bottle and can-shaped objects on the hood of a car. "Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can with the others. Just keep the car doors locked and stay down, the walkers won't even know you're here."

I wanted to argue with him. I'd been the one to pedal the bike thus far, it hardly seemed fair that he should just take posession of it. I didn't though. Not only did I steal his truck, the bottles of water left me better off than when I'd started even if he never came back for me. Besides, even if he had a limp he was still a hell of lot bigger than me. "Go, quickly," I said. He glanced back once before riding off into the night.

The light breeze whisked at my body heat, but it was far from hypothermia inducing. I kept my eyes and ears open as I examined the goods. It was too dark to read the labels but the jar of peanut butter was recognizable nonetheless. Beyond that there were three bottles of water (full), two cans of something or other, and some type of juice. For non-consumables there was a blanket and a flashlight (zombie-bait?).

I sipped at one water bottle greedily, too thirsty to care about the plastic aftertaste from however long it had been in the sun. I finished off the first and wanted to start the second but I forced myself to stop. My brief companion might not ever come back and I needed to conserve water for that scenario. At least now I had something to carry more with if I found a stream.

The car was a tempting haven but I could smell too much death in this place. How many others had id in their cars here and eventually died? No, the car was far too similar to the confines of a grave for my comfort.

Coming to a decision I hid the cans, the juice, and the empty bottle underneath the car for safekeeping. The peanut butter and full water bottles I tucked inside the blanket and took with me. The ground sloped steeply into the trees as I made my way with weary feet. I felt a strange sense of deja vu as I entered the dark confines of the woods but ignored it, intent on keeping my senses sharp rather than drifting into daydreams.

The tree I found wasn't perfect. It was nowhere near as large as the last and the zombies might have a touch more luck climbing it but it was the most my tired limbs could manage to climb. I placed my items in crooks of the tree as I climbed before I settled in on the highest limb I dared, some twenty feet above the ground. Wrapping the blanket half around me like I cloak I assumed a position on the branch that would likely be uncomfortable for a man and braced myself for a long wait.


	6. Chapter 6

C6

I death-gripped the branch as I awoke with a start, half-twisting over as I briefly overcompensated. I rallied however, regaining my balance as I steadied my breathing. I could see one of the walkers a few hundred feet off but it hadn't heard my brief struggle.

It was lighter than last I knew, whenever that was. I'd intended to stay awake until past dawn to make sure I didn't miss them coming back but my exhausted body must have had other ideas. And even after that nap I could still feel the effect of my earlier exertions. Every part of me seemed to ache. My bones from sleeping on branches twice in a row, my muscles from all the running and biking and fighting, and stomach from extreme hunger. It had been less apparent when I was dehydrated but now I was more than ready for peanut butter even if I didn't have anything to go with it.

I pressed my limbs back into service as I went down to a lower branch to grab the jar. Not seeing much worth in climbing back up for the moment I sat down to eat, legs straddling the thicker branch with the jar opened in front of me. I pulled the brown blanket around myself a bit tighter as the misty wind licked at my skin but other than that the entirety of my focus was on my meal. After nothing to eat for who knew how long it tasted as good as fresh sauteed lobster. Bit sweeter than I preferred but I wasn't in a position to be picky.

I didn't stuff too much in my mouth before my long-empty stomach felt full. It suggested that food insecurity was more of a pattern than a single occurrence for this girl I now was. Sadly if this was anything like my own America then it was quite possible that was a pre-apocalypse condition.

I pondered the United States as I washed down the sticky salty peanut butter. I couldn't be sure this actually _was_ another world. Perhaps I'd died and reincarnated as a girl ten to twelve years ago and memories of my past life awakened in a time of great need, say, when trapped alone in a forest full of zombies. If that were true it was a bit odd that I didn't remember her life as well but perhaps some trauma was blocking it, though perhaps not completely. I'd had a couple instances of deja vu and that man I'd sort of saved last night felt slightly more familiar to me than he should have after only knowing him for twenty minutes.

It was a theory but it didn't ring true. I wasn't sure whether Hillary or Trump won, but I couldn't imagine either one screwing up things quite this badly. Mass cancer from polluted air and frakked up water maybe with no affordable healthcare to help the victims and not to mention Florida was probably underwater but zombies… no.

Besides, unless 99.9% of the population was killed by a virus (which, alas was possible if someone defunded CDC like they tried to do a few years back) the US military would make short work of the shambling undead I'd seen thus far. A single four-man squad of Green Berets could kill thousands every month if properly supplied with ammo, a couple dozen a day if they were limited to knives and whatever spike/fire/rope traps they could put together. Many a citizen and politician said America was the greatest country on Earth. It was a statement fallacious in many ways, but it was true that our military could invade Hell and probably win.

My head jerked towards a new sound. The road was raised well above the surrounding area, I couldn't quite see what was coming. Stowing the strangely sweet peanut butter I climbed up a few branches for a better vantage point.

It was a small clunker, rolling to a stop. In the light of day it was apparent that it was no older in design than most of the other cars crashed on the highway - yet another sign that this was not in fact the future. I was tempted to run out immediately but it wasn't the man from before. He was about the same age but a bit wider, though with similar muscles. Brown hair, slight beard, and if I wasn't mistaken from the distance a touch of the crazy eyes.

"Sophia?" he called, louder than was wise. He peered into the car I was meant to hide in. "Sophia are you here?" I winced as the not-as-distant-as-preferred zombie turned his way. Screw it, even if he had crazy eyes he was friendlier than the locals.

"I'm on my way," I called back, hurrying down down the tree. Not eager to waste time I left the food and water behind. Hopefully they weren't low enough on supplies that I'd be reprimanded for the waste.

To my surprise he was holding a gun on me when I came up the road bank. I slowly lifted my hands. A few pieces of vine dropped off me and I realized I should have at least kept the blanket for modesty. I didn't have much of anything to show but the vine coverage was getting dicey nonetheless and likely made me look a bit wild. "Easy now," I said. He definitely had crazy eyes. And while the previous man had a military air, this one struck me as more a violent crooked sheriff type.

"Sophia?" I wasn't fond of speaking lies or half-truths so I just nodded. "Your voice sounded different." I sighed inwardly. My accent struck again. Thankfully he lowered his gun anyways like he should have done to begin with. Even if I sounded different, how many people could share the same face post-apocalypse anyways. Well, unless I had an evil twin or something.

"Here," he said, turning his eyes away as he handed me his jacket. The last time someone did that for me things ended quite poorly but I glanced around and the coast was still clear. I could hear the shambler from before but it was still a bit off. He didn't seem to hear it, possibly part deaf from firing guns without hearing equipment. Either that or he was inured to danger.

I'd barely put on the massive jacket when he grabbed me into a tight sweaty hug. My skin crawled and I wanted to push him away or kick him in the balls but I was very cognizant that he still had a loaded gun. I wasn't even sure why it bothered me so much considering what I'd endured on the campaign trail but I focused on his jacket instead.

It was an incredibly stupid jacket, I decided. Even ignoring the stench, I couldn't think of any reason why he'd wear it except for some foolish sense of fashion. The material was far too thin to provide serious protection against zombie bites but was stifling in the day's heat. The only thing it had been good for was covering up his sweat stains that he might not have had if he wasn't wearing a jacket.

"I'm so glad you're alive. I thought…" He choked up on emotion which freaked me out even more. "That doesn't matter now. Shane told me you helped him get back with the supplies that saved Carl. I can never thank you enough."

' _You could thank me by letting me go,'_ I thought to myself. What I said instead was, "Can we get moving? There's a zombie coming up the bank."

"Zombie?" he asked, pulling away at last.

I was a bit dumbstruck. Was he kidding or did he really not know what a zombie was? "A…" I thought back to what the other man had called them. "A walker, it heard you shouting for me."

Rather than getting in the car and leaving he stepped to the edge of the road and fired, a small spray of blood and viscera shooting into the air from the zombie just out of sight. I rubbed my ringing ears. Thing was ungodly loud for just a handgun, or maybe my ears were just sensitive. Either way with my luck it had probably attracted one of the zombie packs roaming around. Thankfully it seemed like the man was thinking sensibly again and ushered me towards his car.

"Just a sec." I grabbed the remaining water bottle and two cans of soup from where I'd hid them under the broken car and rushed after him. When the motor started running and the A/C clicked on it felt like the worst was over.

I watched the scenery pass as he took the car at a moderate pace down the highway. It was beautiful enough now that I wasn't contending with the undead, peaceful even. It helped me keep my mind off the way having a man in close confines with me was giving me the heebee-jeebies, at least until he spoke. "Why'd you leave the hiding spot?" he asked. "I came back for you but you were just… gone."

"I don't know," I murmured. I really didn't have a clue, but I was growing worried. Why _had_ Sophia run off? It might have been to escape zombies… or it might have been to escape _him._

"You've got to listen to us adults if you want to survive, Sophia. Remember that."

We turned onto a long driveway. My tension grew as it went on and on until at last there were cows, horses, sheeps and goats in sight. Life at last, and beyond that a group of humans underneath a large maple tree. They came out to meet us as we rolled to a stop. I was barely out of the car before a middle-aged woman with a touch of gray in her hair swept me off my feet in a tight hug. I was flustered but something about her felt familiar, comfortable and safe even.

After another moment's consideration I hugged her back.


	7. Chapter 7

C7

There were too many people around me. The women didn't bother me that much, even the ones hugging me, but the large males had me breaking into a cold sweat. I didn't want to think about what that said of Sophia's life, because it certainly wasn't a hangup from my side of things.

Without a clear recollection of the intervening time I was ushered into the rustic farmhouse. The windows were unboarded leaving the house bright and homey. The outbreak must have happened very recently if the defenses were so poor. Either that or this must be a new hideout.

"Can you take a look at her Hershel? I want to make sure she's okay." The woman who had first hugged me kept me close to her side, her hand clasping my shoulder as if to make sure I was real.

"I'm sure she just needs a big meal and a good night's rest but let me take a look at her." I suppressed a shiver as he came close to me lugging a chair. "Take a seat and I'll take a look at you little miss." Ignoring my body's misgivings I sat and stayed still as he tested my pulse and wiped a alcohol swab against some scratches I got climbing trees. "All done, she's doing just fine." He patted my head and I flinched away, clutching my head as a sharp pain came from the top of my skull.

Hershel gently peeled my hand away, parting my hair. The woman looked on anxiously as he dabbed the alcohol swab on my head, the liquid stinging slightly. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing, I hope," he replied. "Sophia, do you feel dizzy, nauseous?" I gave a small shake of my head as he pulled out a flashlight from the cupboard. "That's good. Now look at me." He hummed a bit as he waved the light in front of my eyes. "Alright, good. Now can you tell me the date."

It appeared I'd have to tell them about my situation sooner rather than later. As I pondered over what to say he took my silence as an answer.

"My mistake," he said. "That's a hard one these days. How about your name?"

After only a brief hesitation I replied, "Sophia."

"Your full name."

"Go on Honey, you can tell him," said the woman.

"..." It was truly unfortunate that I had a head wound. It would make proving my identity as Bernie Sanders much harder. Perhaps it was best to play along until I knew more of what was going on. "I don't know."

Hershel made sad-eyes, bushy eyebrows full of grief. "Do you remember who she is?"

I looked at the woman. "My mother?" I hazarded a guess. She didn't take the questioning tone well, breaking into tears before grabbing me up into another hug.

"It's okay baby girl, I'm just glad you're back."

Once she'd recovered somewhat Hershel said, "Make sure Sophia doesn't fall asleep for at least the next six hours. Hopefully she'll remember everything with time but don't push her just yet."

My… mom, I supposed, led me back outside to a collection of tents. Settling next to a small fire I watched hot dogs roast over the flames as my mother explained my memory loss to the others.


	8. Chapter 8

C7

There were too many people around me. The women didn't bother me that much, even the ones hugging me, but the large males had me breaking into a cold sweat. I didn't want to think about what that said of Sophia's life, because it certainly wasn't a hangup from my side of things.

Without a clear recollection of the intervening time I was ushered into the rustic farmhouse. The windows were unboarded leaving the house bright and homey. The outbreak must have happened very recently if the defenses were so poor. Either that or this must be a new hideout.

"Can you take a look at her Hershel? I want to make sure she's okay." The woman who had first hugged me kept me close to her side, her hand clasping my shoulder as if to make sure I was real.

"I'm sure she just needs a big meal and a good night's rest but let me take a look at her." I suppressed a shiver as he came close to me lugging a chair. "Take a seat and I'll take a look at you little miss." Ignoring my body's misgivings I sat and stayed still as he tested my pulse and wiped a alcohol swab against some scratches I got climbing trees. "All done, she's doing just fine." He patted my head and I flinched away, clutching my head as a sharp pain came from the top of my skull.

Hershel gently peeled my hand away, parting my hair. The woman looked on anxiously as he dabbed the alcohol swab on my head, the liquid stinging slightly. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing, I hope," he replied. "Sophia, do you feel dizzy, nauseous?" I gave a small shake of my head as he pulled out a flashlight from the cupboard. "That's good. Now look at me." He hummed a bit as he waved the light in front of my eyes. "Alright, good. Now can you tell me the date."

It appeared I'd have to tell them about my situation sooner rather than later. As I pondered over what to say he took my silence as an answer.

"My mistake," he said. "That's a hard one these days. How about your name?"

After only a brief hesitation I replied, "Sophia."

"Your full name."

"Go on Honey, you can tell him," said the woman.

"..." It was truly unfortunate that I had a head wound. It would make proving my identity as Bernie Sanders much harder. Perhaps it was best to play along until I knew more of what was going on. "I don't know."

Hershel made sad-eyes, bushy eyebrows full of grief. "Do you remember who she is?"

I looked at the woman. "My mother?" I hazarded a guess. She didn't take the questioning tone well, breaking into tears before grabbing me up into another hug.

"It's okay baby girl, I'm just glad you're back."

Once she'd recovered somewhat Hershel said, "Make sure Sophia doesn't fall asleep for at least the next six hours. Hopefully she'll remember everything with time but don't push her just yet."

My… mom, I supposed, led me back outside to a collection of tents. Settling next to a small fire I watched hot dogs roast over the flames as my mother explained my memory loss to the others.

* * *

The camp was too open. No walls, a fence on only one side - and a poor, wooden one at that. The tents might protect against the rain but they'd be gift wrapping for zombies. Did they know something I didn't? It was a good thing I wasn't supposed to sleep yet because it was hard to imagine sleeping so exposed like this. I wondered how hard it would be to convince my mother to let me sleep in a tree.

' _Mother…'_ In some ways that was an even crazier thing than landing in a new body. After more than half a century without, having an elder that wanted to care for me was exceedingly strange. Especially when my new mother was young enough to be my daughter. I might have been tempted to call her by name but I still didn't know what it was and didn't want to upset her by asking.

She'd been hovering over me since we met, but it didn't bother me as much as I thought it might. She was good at fending off the others that came to check on me, many trying to ask questions I didn't have answers to. Carl's mother in particular was intimidating and seemed to feel I was at fault for Carl's injury if I didn't misunderstand her. I hoped she was wrong but besides subtle emotional responses nothing of Sophia's memories had carried over so I couldn't argue otherwise.

I learned my mother's name later as we were called to the funeral. It was a surprisingly elaborate affair for an apocalypse and Carol had to help keep me upright by the end. My new body was younger and would likely recover quickly but I'd pushed it to the limit.

' _Otis.'_ I hadn't seen him before he died, though I thought I might have heard him screaming briefly last night. Perhaps if I'd gotten to the school sooner I might have saved him, but I doubted it. There were zombies coming from all directions and from the photo Otis didn't look like the fittest man in the world. Definitely wouldn't have been able to carry _him_ on the back of my bicycle - no offense to the dead, of course.

After a lunch of hot dogs and canned beans I was finally allowed to go to sleep. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was our turn to stay in the RV. It was still more exposed than I'd like but far better than a tent. It also helped that it was daylight and Carol was watching over me. Better to nap now than in the dark of the night.

I was asleep before I knew it.


End file.
